


One May Wonder

by AbleG



Series: The Dragonborn Comes [6]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-22
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2019-06-14 06:23:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15382605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AbleG/pseuds/AbleG
Summary: Farkas reflects on why Vilkas has so much dislike of the new recruit. Luckily for Airgiod and Farkas both, it is not Vilkas who decides if and when Airgiod will be promoted further within their ranks. Thankfully, that appears to be Skjor's job today.





	One May Wonder

**Author's Note:**

> Part SIX
> 
> I LIVED. God it has been a while, hasn't it? My laptop is pretty much dead for good, I would say. I've borrowed an older desktop from my own mother, but I don't have a desk-... Star Wars has happened! Pretty good shit, I would say. But Yeah. I'm back. Don't know for how long with my schedule, but thanks for hanging in. 
> 
> Like I may have said, this is a series that I know I can come back to whenever. I haven't stopped liking Skyrim, and I have the notes and the play hours to write PLENTY.

Weeks had now passed since the dragon had attacked Whiterun, but stories of the Dragonborn yet persisted. They were fewer and further between than they had been, but they were no longer the hottest topic of news. The Dragonborn seemed disinclined to make a second appearance in Whiterun, or anywhere else for that matter. So, people eventually moved on to different topics. One that had been more heavily discussed was that of the strange new member of the Companions. This topic, of course, would be completely dull and pointless to speculate about, were it not for the fact that the man only seemed to come to Jorrvaskr during the cover of night. Why did he only return to Whiterun when no one was there to witness him? Why was he so apprehensive about showing his face? No one had any answers.

Farkas didn’t much care about these stories. They were foolish. A man was welcome to live his life how he wanted without milkmaids and shopkeepers gossiping about his motives. Especially if that man was doing things that were respectable. In fact, Farkas might have gone so far as to say that the whispers annoyed him. It was a strange thing to admit, but it was true. After all, these stories sometimes became quite dark and foreboding in nature, and all of them were about his friend.

Yes. Farkas had found a comrade in Airgiod, the newest addition to the Companions. He was a strong and adventurous man who was not afraid to get his hands dirty, and never backed down from a challenge once it was issued. He respected that about him. More importantly, though, he was one of the few people who never made any comments about Farkas’s intelligence. It wasn’t that Farkas was bothered by what people said about him. Some of it was true. Anything that wasn’t true, Farkas didn’t find a need to correct or get upset about. But Airgiod listened to him, even though Farkas never had much to say. It almost felt as though Airgiod respected Farkas’s word even more because they were so few. The only two people that he could recall showing him that much respect were Kodlak and his own brother. 

Not to mention that Airgiod was generally enjoyable to be around, especially when hunting and drinking.

Though his memory was not exceptionally sharp, Farkas could recall the first night Airgiod had come to them. Mostly because it had started out so poorly. He remembered that Vilkas had gone into Kodlak’s study to talk and eat there. Farkas had not even bothered asking if he might join. Whenever Kodlak and Vilkas started talking together, Farkas always let them alone. He knew there would be little of their conversation that he would understand and, after a while, Vilkas would grow tired of explaining concepts that meant very little to him in the long run to Farkas. So he hadn’t joined them. That night, he thought that Vilkas was still with Kodlak when Farkas had been heading to his room to get ready for bed. He was proven wrong when the door from the dining hall was kicked open and had knocked him in the back of the head. 

Vilkas had apologized to him fervently, then switched to scolding Farkas for standing empty-headedly right in front of closed doors. None of the other Companions stopped as they passed by. To them, this was typical behavior from the twins. Farkas knew better, though. He had waited patiently for Vilkas to run himself out of breath, knowing that as soon as he did, Vilkas would explain without hesitating what had been bothering him enough to make him kick a door open in the first place.

Sure enough, Vilkas had asked Farkas to join him in his room. Farkas remembered sitting on Vilkas’s bed, watching him lazily as he paced back and forth across the floor. This was Vilkas’s custom. When Vilkas was very angry, he had a tendency to either lash out or go on rants with words that Farkas didn’t always understand. Vilkas was always too worked up to slow his speech and chose a vocabulary more suited to Farkas in these instances, but Farkas knew his twin well enough to read his emotion and pick out plenty of words to get a general understanding of what had happened.

Apparently, some savage from the mountains had burst his way into Kodlak’s office and dumped Vilkas out of his seat to prove to Kodlak that he was strong enough to be a Companion. But he was bad. Kodlak had made a terrible mistake and was fooled by the savage’s display of strength, thinking that only a very strong man could lift a chair with another man in it. So, he had asked Vilkas to test him further. And the savage had proceeded to humiliate Vilkas in a very dishonorable way. He pretended to be an idiot so that Vilkas would take pity on him, but then sprang into action with the skill of a warrior and had bested Vilkas. He then made Vilkas eat dirt. Or, at least, that was what Farkas gathered from Vilkas’s story. He had been angry and confused by this savage who had somehow worked his way into the Companions, only to spite Vilkas. He left Vilkas’s room brooding over the fool who had dared to make a joke of his brother, but his thoughts hadn’t gotten much further along than that when he had heard Skjor calling to him from the other set of large rooms designated for members of The Circle.

Anger forgotten, he hurried down the hall and looked into Skjor’s room. It was empty. Strange. He could have sworn that Skjor had just shouted his name. Scratching is head, he turned around to see three faces staring at him from Aela’s room. Stranger still. What was Skjor doing in Aela’s room at this time of the night? Surely, if they were discussing a hunt, it didn’t require the privacy of her sleeping quarters.

“...Did you call me?” Farkas asked, looking between Skjor and Aela. He had the distinct feeling that, unless he had most definitely been called for, he was not supposed to be here.

“Of course we did, icebrain…” Aela said impatiently with a roll of her eyes. “Show this new blood where the rest of the whelps sleep.”

“New blood?” It was then that Farkas finally noticed the third man and recognized him. The man in turn, recognized Farkas, and grinned excitedly. Farkas gave him a half smile in return. He wasn’t one for smiling. People told him his smiles resembled a wolfish snarl, so he usually refrained from it. “Oh, I remember you. Come on, follow me.”

Farkas lead the man away from Aela’s room, happy to be of some help.  
“Icebrain, huh? Well, I’m Airgiod. It’s a pleasure to be formally introduced.” The new blood said from behind Farkas. He could hear the strong note of sarcasm in the man’s voice and behind his pleasantries. Farkas didn’t always pick up on sarcasm, and it made his lip curl up into another odd smile.

“Farkas. Skjor and Aela like to tease me, but they’re good people. They challenge us to be our best.” Farkas explained simply as the two of them kept walking.

“How thoughtful.” Airgiod joked again. 

The walk was short, and quiet. Not many words were exchanged. No abundance of questions. Farkas appreciated that. Too often he was faced with too many comments, stories, or inquiries from the newer members. It was tiring for him. Though, admittedly, not so tiring that he was happy with the dwindling number of fresh recruits. His family was growing smaller and smaller.

“Nice to have a new face around. It gets boring here sometimes.” Farkas explained as they were just outside the shared quarters for the regular Companions. “I hope we keep you. This can be a rough life.”

“You and I both.” Airgiod replied.

 

From that point on, Airgiod and Farkas had been somewhat inseparable. Where Airgiod had succeeded and securing a place for himself in their ranks, he had failed to endear himself to the other Companions quite as well. Farkas understood why. Many of the Companions distrusted outsiders. Their group was very tightly knit, and Airgiod was a stranger without a story. When asked, Airgiod would simply shrug. The most anyone could ever get out of him was that he used to travel a lot. The others may not have much love for Airgiod, but Farkas found himself getting attached to the whelp. 

Usually, when a new member was accepted into the Companions, they would find themselves a mentor. This was not an official post, or a ritual passed down from the time of Ysgramor. It was simply easier for the whelps to learn the ropes at the hands of someone who was more experienced. Most of the time, they would go to Vilkas who was more than happy to share his vast knowledge of all things with the new recruits as they marveled at how young and yet how wise he was. Or they would go to Aela, who would teach them the glories of the hunt first hand. Skjor was a wise teacher for the shrewd and patient, and made up for Aela’s firy impulses with cool calculation in battle. Farkas was often skipped over. In this rare occasion, Farkas had turned out to be one of the few who had welcomed Airgiod with open arms, so Airgiod favored him above the rest of The Circle. 

Airgiod grew on Farkas quickly, as he had never had a whelp of his own to train and teach. He never thought himself a good teacher, as he was bad with instructions and explanations, but Airgiod seemed to flourish under his mentoring all the same. Every job that Farkas passed down to Airgiod was met with determination and excitement, then completed with very little difficulty. Farkas was proud of Airgiod, and he only wished he was better with words so he could speak in his defence when the others spoke down to him. Airgiod proved to be as emotionally resilient as he was physically, but sometimes Farkas would catch him under the roof of the training yard, tucked in the shadows and staring wistfully at Vilkas as he trained the other whelps in combat. 

Vilkas had never liked Airgiod, and Farkas didn’t understand why. He had long ago discovered that asking Vilkas about it was the wrong thing to do. What Farkas did know was that out of everyone, even Njada who was simply unfriendly and hostile to everyone, Vilkas was the hardest on Airgiod. It upset the new blood. Farkas was unsure why it mattered to him so much. One night, in an attempt to lift Airgiod’s spirits, Farkas had explained that the more dangerous assignments were handed out by Skjor and Vilkas. Once Airgiod made more of a name for himself, he would be able to work with Vilkas on a more unavoidable level. Airgiod was thrilled by this news. Every time he returned to Farkas with another job successfully taken care of, he would look to both twins for approval. Unfortunately, Vilkas never met Airgiod with the same encouragement that Farkas did. All Airgiod ever received was disinterest, or worse yet, disapproval. It wore on Airgiod. 

It was nightfall, as usual, when Airgiod made his return. Even though Farkas was seated at the table inside of the hall, he knew that Airgiod would arrive in a matter of moments. Vilkas had just entered Jorrvaskr with a scowl on his face. He looked sourly over at Farkas, then walked down the stairs to his room, Farkas assumed. Vilkas had remained cross with Farkas for siding with Airgiod on more than one occasion. Farkas suspected that Vilkas might feel betrayed to some degree, but that was still foolish. It wasn’t as though Farkas had raised a sword to Vilkas in Airgiod’s name. He had only mentioned once or twice that Airgiod wasn’t as horrible as Vilkas believed he was. 

Airgiod entered the hall as soon as Vilkas was out of sight, looking as troubled as he always did when Vilkas spurned him. A smarter man might have tried to discourage Airgiod from trying to befriend Vilkas, or even ask him why he was so dead set on someone who so clearly hated him. Farkas was not that man. He firmly believed that, if Vilkas would give Airgiod a chance, they could be good friends if not ideal Shield-brothers. Airgiod was much smarter than he let on. Farkas had once seen Airgiod return from exterminating a bandit camp with a bag full of loot. When Farkas asked him about his spoils, Airgiod given him a quick look inside the bag. Books. It was all books. A few potions, some jewelry, but mostly books. He was very proud of his plunder, as well. Vilkas was fond of books as well.

With a wave of his hand, Farkas guided the dejected Airgiod to the table and offered him a drink, which Airgiod accepted instantly without a word. He took a good, long drink from the cup and set it down heavily on the table.

“He’s at it again.” Airgiod said, referring to Vilkas.

“Don’t let him get to you.” Farkas said while Airgiod reached across the table for a plate of freshly baked bread to go with the venison chop Farkas had saved for him. It was indeed a gesture of friendship and a display of great willpower, for the food this evening seemed especially good to Farkas.

“I try not to, but honestly it’s his eyes. Like a frozen ocean, they are.” Airgiod gestured to his own eyes for emphasis, then poked at the meat in front of him. “I just wish I knew WHY he hated me. Then maybe I could do something to amend it.”

Farkas shook his head. “Wouldn’t matter. Vilkas is quick-tempered and prideful. If you found out what his problem is, I doubt he’d accept any sort of apology.”

“So what, then? Am I just to accept that no matter what I do, it will never be good enough for him?” Airgiod asked just as he was about to take a bite of his dinner.

Farkas could only shrug. “He’ll come around eventually. But on his own time. You can’t rush him. He thinks too much, like you do.”

Airgiod snorted and finally put the large piece of wonderfully cooked meat into his mouth, chewing it slowly and gratefully. 

“Kodlak likes you. Vilkas always listens to the old man, even when he doesn’t agree with him.” Farkas added before taking another drink. He saw Airgiod swallow, but he didn’t take another bite. It seemed as though something had just begun to make sense to Airgiod that he hadn’t thought about before. Farkas was about to ask Airgiod what was on his mind, but they were interrupted by Skjor coming up the stairs to greet them.

“I was looking for you two. Found out from Vilkas that you’d just gotten back.” Skjor said with a smirk that clearly said that he hadn’t found out from Vilkas by talking to him.

Airgiod sat up straight in his chair, at attention. It wasn’t often that Skjor addressed Airgiod for any reason, as the jobs that he was usually in charge of were beyond the skill level of new recruits. As such, Airgiod always seemed to be on edge around Skjor. Farkas couldn’t blame him for that, though. Skjor was naturally intimidating. He was a skilled fighter, and an older one at that. Warriors didn’t tend to live to be Skjor’s age, not unless they were formidable in combat. There was also the matter of Skjor’s one dead eye. It had been damaged long enough ago for Skjor to relearn how to fight expertly with half of his vision gone, and yet it still retained the feeling that it was functional. There was little that Skjor didn’t see.

“Your time, it seems, has come new blood.” Skjor said, leaning a hand on the table next to Airgiod, scrutinizing him closely. Skjor was not fond of flatterers or bootlickers. 

“What do you mean by that?” Airgiod asked cautiously, leaning away from Skjor to put some distance between himself and the old warrior. It looked as though Airgiod feared Skjor might try to bite him. Farkas internally commended Airgiod on his sharp instincts.

“Last week a scholar came to us. He said he knew where we could find another fragment of Wuuthrad.” Skjor elaborated, his voice taking a more business-like tone as he leaned away from Airgiod in turn.

Airgiod looked puzzled, and it occurred to Farkas that Airgiod might not know all of the legends of the Companions. Farkas certainly didn’t. Usually, Vilkas was the one to teach the great history of Ysgramor and his exploits that lead to the formation of the Companions. It was one of Vilkas’s favorite subjects, so it was usually just decided upon that Vilkas would make sure all new Companions heard the stories at least once. At least, Vilkas would if he didn’t hate the new Companions.

Farkas frowned at this oversight.

“He seemed a fool to me, but if he’s right, the honor of the Companions demands that we seek it out.” Skjor affirmed, not noticing Airgiod’s perplexion. Or, more likely, Skjor didn’t care. Many of the higher ranked Companions tested the newbloods this way. Farkas always thought it more akin to teasing rather than testing.

Wisely, Airgiod did not ask Skjor for answers. “I would be honored to retrieve it.”

The scowl formed over Skjor’s features once again, wrinkling the scar over his eye that ran the length of his face. He gave Airgiod a measured look. “There’s a fine line between respect and bootlicking, new blood… but I like your spirit.”

Airgiod relaxed at that, feeling as though he had already passed the first challenge.

“We’ve decided this will be your Trial. Do well, and you will be counted among the Companions.” Skjor announced loudly and importantly. “Farkas will be your Shield-Sibling on this venture, whelp. He’ll answer any questions you have.”

Airgiod looked at Farkas in elation, his eyes burning with determination and commitment. He was more than ready to face this trial, and Farkas was happy to be the one to vouch for him. It was about time Kodlak decided to allow him into the ranks, and there would be nothing Vilkas could do to stop it from happening.

“I hope you’re ready.” Farkas said to Airgiod, though he was certain he already knew the answer.

“Oh, one more thing, new blood.” Skjor added before turning away. “Try not to disappoint. Or to get Farkas killed.”


End file.
